Whistle For The Choir
by Fabray
Summary: Somewhere in between the drumsticks and the late night kicks, they became a band - a band of friends and a band of lovers. Finn, Mike and Puck's idea of a band turns upside down once a tiny belter who goes by the name of Rachel Berry hops on board. AU.
1. Chapter 1

a/n: So, really, this is the result of an idea that's been in my head for quite some time now. It is most definitely multi-chaptered and will be approximately eight chapters long. Also, this is as AU as it gets. It's a completely clean slate – no glee club, no former relationships, a whole new setting, etc. Just read and you'll understand. The characters included in this'll be mainly Finn, Mike, Puck, Rachel and Santana with sheer mentions of some others, perhaps. It follows Finn/Rachel but with a gist of everyone else, too. Title and lyrics are from "Whistle for the Choir" by The Fratellis.

**... ... ...**

_Well it's a big big city and the lights are all out_

_But it's much as I can do you know to figure you out_

_And I must confess, my hearts in broken pieces_

_And my heads a mess_

_And it's 4 in the morning, and I'm walking along_

_Beside the ghost of every drinker here who has ever done wrong_

_And it's you, woo hoo_

_That's got me going crazy for the things you do_

**... ... ...**

It's rare for the chime on the door of Dalton's to ring at only four-thirty in the morning, especially if it's not Mr. Ortiz picking up his early morning coffee – half a cup of milk and two sugars, not too steamy.

Rachel Berry can't say being a barista is one of her finest moments – it's hardly in her top ten, that's for sure. But tuition is a load more than she's ever expected it to be, and giving up her spot at NYU doesn't seem applicable in the least.

A man enters when it's just her and Spencer – the always-crabby barista with the ginger curls who's only good for brewing a hell of a good cappuccino – working their usual four am shift. His hands are fiddling idly in the pockets of his denim jacket and he takes a small huff before pulling the doorknob behind him closed, careful not to let his knuckles or his wrist collide with the chimes that hang on the doorknob once more.

"Take this one, Rachel," Spencer tells her, untying the string of her navy blue apron and tossing it on top of the vacant counter all the way by the stacked cups. "I'll be back; I have to send a wakeup call over to my boyfriend." So, her boyfriend's a city firefighter, and as much respect as Rachel has for that because, well, he's practically a hero, she could do without the constant calls out of fret and panic from Spencer.

"You do that," Rachel nods, pressing both of her palms flat down on the countertop as she pushes the rest of her body weight down with them, sighing. "Can I help you?"

The man takes off his hat and he's not a man at all – more like a twenty-something college student with an awfully odd mohawk like the ones she sees in those boy bands on the music channel she occasionally flips to out of boredom. "No coffee for me," he tells her.

"Well," she's chuckling a bit. "This _is_ only a coffee shop, so…"

"You got a spare wall?" He pulls a wad of rolled up paper out from inside of his jacket and begins to untie the rubber band holding all of them together. "I've got a band and, well… we gotta get the word out there somehow."

"Um, back there," Rachel's pointing to the wall closest to the bookshelf and the two black lounge chairs, so he doesn't hesitate to walk over, nodding his head as a sort-of 'thank you'. "Wait! Did you say you had a band?"

"Yes ma'am," he nod, turning his body back around to face hers. "S'not like we've got a million gigs set everywhere or anything, but we're workin' on it." He bites his lip and looks to her for just a second – she's shooting him a smile too, but he blames it on the over-enthusiasm and all of that shit the workers are totally expected to pull. "But… um, it's not like we need a ton of members either. Just one."

"And that one would be?" She asks him, a hint of excitement to her voice.

"We just need a lead vocalist, s'all," he's digging his hands through his pocket once more, but this time he steps closer to the counter and reaches his hands over so she does the same, opening her palm as he drops a small, folded piece of paper inside of it. "Lord knows if you can sing, but you should audition anyway. Your looks say just about enough..."

"So you think I have an appeal, huh?" She doesn't blame him; her parents have always reminded her of how spectacular a face she had for things like this. "I'd have to, um… I'd have to know your name first."

"I'm Puck," she arches her brow because he _can't_ be serious – does he expect her to believe his name is actually _Puck_? "S'Noah – Noah Puckerman. But call me that and I'll rig your microphone at auditions."

"Deal," she reaches her hand out for a handshake and pulls back once her eyes meet his groggy ones, hesitant and unsure – has he ever heard of a friendly gesture in his entire life? "I'll see you at auditions, _Noah_."

"Watch it," he chuckles. "And you are?"

"Rachel," she nods. "Rachel Berry. You might want to write that down on your band roster or something because, well, I'm actually a pretty good performer – or so I've been told."

"Confidence… I like it," Puck looks at her for a moment before pivoting and turning right out of the shop. The fliers he brought in with him just moments before still rest tightly in his grip, the rubber band once holding them together back in place.

It's not like he was _actually_ going to hang those up anyway, right?

**... ... ...**

"Relax, dude," Puck eyes his pacing friend as he takes a swig of beer that rests on his amplifier. "She'll totally be here – she dug the whole 'band' idea in like, a heartbeat."

Finn Hudson just nods his head because, well, if Puck picked her up, she must have _something_ right about her, right?

"What if she's a priss?" Mike Chang sits at the piano bench his ass has been glued to almost all day due to a gruesome round of auditions – or fail auditions, which seems the more appropriate term now. "And how do you know she can sing?"

"Dunno," Puck shrugs. "The chick was kinda hot so I was like, 'what the hell', y'know? Plus, she's a barista at that new coffee shop – Dalton, I think it is – and she could totally get us gigs there. It's got a stage for those Saturday night shows and junk."

Finn sighs, "I thought we'd try and get in at McKinley's, dude."

"One problem," Puck groans. "We need a _lead singer_ to get into McKinley's, asshole." He grunts as Finn looks onto him with bulged eyes, his grin the least bit satisfied. "Just give this chick a chance and well, if she can't sing, there's always my ex-girlfriend…"

"Santana?" Mike asks with a snicker. "She stayed in the band for like, a week and left once you dropped out of school for that stupid guitar playing dream in Central Park and those stupid cigarettes you can't go five minutes without smoking, but nice try."

"One, my guitar playing is top notch, so you can shut your trap now, douchebag," Puck snorts. "And two, Santana left me because she's totally playing for the other team now – she's got a friend with benefits or some shit like that."

Mike nods, "Right, the blonde –"

"Guys!" Finn throws his hands over his head and groans. "Would you just shut up for like, two seconds? I think that's your doorbell."

Puck nods and brings his index finger to his mouth, shushing the guys beside him because that _better_ be Rachel Berry with one helluva set of pipes. "Buzz her in, Finn."

"Buzzed in," Finn signals. He's like, totally skeptical of Puck's pick, and he knows Mike is too, but he buzzes her in anyway because, well, she's practically their last hope.

"Hello?" She's lifting the handle on the door of their apartment and pounding it over and over so Finn kind of wants to quiet her down because he totally just fixed that handle. "Anyone?"

"Uh… comin'," Puck gestures for Mike to go open the door but he just shakes his head and starts pressing every which button on his keyboard to make himself look occupied, so Finn figures he'll do it if his friends are just gonna sit there like lazy assholes. "Thanks, Hudson. You're the man."

"Save it," Finn tells him. He's at the door and she stops the pounding because, well, she must hear his footsteps, right?

"Hi!" She's wide-eyed and tiny – like, five foot kind of tiny. She's carrying a stacked black binder in her hands, her neck covered in a red scarf as she huffs as if she's lost all capability of breathing. "I'm… I'm Rachel."

"Rachel…" Finn doesn't know how far down her body he looks, but his eyes roam her like, _everywhere_, because her legs are super long and she doesn't even bother wearing tights that aren't like, practically see-through, so she kind of grants him permission just like that. "Hi, I'm Finn Hudson." He's holding out his hand now and she grips it tightly, a smile gracing her lips. "I'm the, um… I'm the drummer."

"Drummer," she nods. "Noted." She steps into the crowded apartment, almost hitting the amplifier up against the wall nearest to the door with her legs as she passes by and makes her way to Puck, who greets her with a high-five and nod.

"Told you she'd show," he sounds proud and Finn and Mike just grunt because, really, he makes it hard not to be forever deemed an asshole in their heads. "So, sing."

"Just… just like that?" Rachel asks, her breathing almost labored. "You _cannot_ be serious. My performance will require nothing but a solid warm-up to start off with; maybe a few scale practices before I begin belting the notes that are a little less approachable, you know?"

"English please," Puck demands with a snicker, shooting his glance toward Finn and Mike who look like, ten times more confused than he is.

"Just let her warm-up," Finn tells him, nodding to Rachel as she smiles back to him, shaking her head 'yes' more times than he can count. "Then she can sing like, whatever she needs to sing and be on her way."

"So this is a rushed audition?" Rachel asks, panic gracing her voice. "I won't take that; I can't take that. I showed up here to expect only the finest audition – proper warm-up, a song selection of _my_ choice and my choice only. But I… there's always other girls for your band, right?"

Finn and Mike both shake their head 'no' incessantly as they look onto Puck, who plops his ass down on the one chair they've got in their living room area and crosses his right leg over the left. "Mike, give her some keys or some shit and let her warm-up; Finn, give her a beat on the drums."

"And you'll be doing…?" Rachel narrows her eyes toward Puck, who holds his beer steadily as he lifts it to his lips to take a swig.

"Watchin' you," he tells her. "C'mon, we don't have all day."

"Actually, we were just gonna play Guitar Hero after you left so we have like, all –"

"_Finn!_" Mike and Puck both yell in unison.

So she starts with some warm-ups (at least Puck thinks that's what saying 'mi' over and over again 'till he practically wants to pick her up by her tiny torso and chuck her out of his third floor apartment window is called – a warm-up) and Finn and Mike clap for her because she's aced the first part of the test.

"Now the song," Puck tells her indifferently. "W'do'u plan on singing, kid?"

"_Kid_?" Rachel narrows her eyes. "Mind you, I'm a nineteen-year-old attendee of New York University pursuing nothing but a serious career in performing arts. I'm hardly a child and will _not_ stand in the midst of your living room and attempt to sing a single note for you if I'm called one again." Finn and Mike just stand wide-eyed; they'll let Puck do the talking since, well, it's _totally_ his fault.

"Chill, chill," Puck holds up his hands as if he's guilty of a crime, nestling his head further back into the cushion of the sofa as he lets out a small huff. "…So are you singin' for us or not?"

"We'll see," she answers, a somewhat evil glint in her eye as she sets the binder she's holding tight to her chest down on the amplifier she's taken notice is a not-so-convenient holder for the guys' beer bottles.

"Funny," Puck chuckles. "What's the binder for anyway?"

"My repertoire," she answers seriously. "Don't believe me? I've got fifty or so pages of music – ask me to sing sixteen measures from each and I'll gladly –"

Puck reaches his arm out and leans his body over the sofa, grabbing the thick binder with his hands. He quickly scans the pages, roughly turning them and passing all of the pages containing some stupid musical crap – _Evita, West Side Story, Wicked_. "What's a West Side Story?"

"Only the most heartfelt take on a modern _Romeo and Juliet_ there is – gangs and all," Rachel nods enthusiastically. "Now, let's put off the questions for later. Can I sing my song?"

Puck throws his hands up in victory, "I thought you'd never ask."

**... ... ...**

She's good – like, really good. She doesn't sing one of those freak show songs after all, no. She belts Britney Spears' _I Love Rock 'n Roll_ with no care, tapping her foot for a tiny effect. As she hits the end note, Finn and Mike begin to clap and Puck shoots his hand up to stop them.

"A little iffy," he tells her as she looks at him with that sort-of 'I'm a little discouraged but I still kicked ass anyway and I totally know it' kind of look. "But…"

She taps her fingertips nervously on the binder she's picked up in her hands once again, her tiny body flailing up and down as Puck shoots and whisper over to the guys standing beside the sofa.

"I can't believe I'm saying this but…" Puck shrugs teasingly. "You're in the band, diva."

She squeals, lifting her hands to her mouth as she giddily runs over to Puck and throws herself in his arms. "Thank you! Thank you, thank you, _thank you_! I'll work hard; I'll devote every spare moment I obtain to this band and this band only. Oh, Noah –"

He interrupts, "_Puck_. And you're squeezin' all the air out of me, lady."

"Thank you!"

He's not sure if he should say you're welcome, because he's not sure he's ready to welcome another girl to the band. Not after the Santana incident, at least. (So, he's upset, but who could blame him? The chick totally switched teams on him.)

**... ... ...**

Puck crashes on the couch, his ever-so-present bottle of beer still nestled in his grip as he takes small chugs every so often, watching Rachel slip on her coat and place the sheet music she's showing Finn (who's gotta be completely uninterested because, well, _Wicked_, seriously?) back into that stupid binder he's sure he'll remind her again and again never to bring to rehearsal.

Mike's gotta meet his girlfriend downtown for Sushi but he stays just to congratulate Rachel and print out a copy of their rehearsal schedule from his computer in the kitchen quickly.

She really does love the whole welcoming ordeal she's being given already. "That's very sweet, Mike. Thank you."

"I'll walk her out," Finn nods his head to Mike and hears Puck mumble from the sofa for him not to trip on the way out. "Have fun at dinner, man. Tell your girlfriend hey and stuff."

"Will do," Mike salutes and turns away. Just before he heads for the door, he turns back to Rachel once more with a whisper. "I'm glad we picked you."

Finn nods because, well, he's kind of glad they picked her too. It's not that the other girls weren't good, no, but something about Rachel makes her like, a hundred times better and he just needs to figure out what – the black binder, the awesome belting on those notes not even Britney could hit, the way she stood up to Puck. Damn.

"So…" Finn tilts his head to the ground and kicks his feet in the rubble on the sidewalk of their apartment building, huffing and puffing in the cool October air. "How are you getting home?"

"Oh, I'll be taking the subway," Rachel tells him. "I've actually got a seven-thirty shift down at Dalton's, so…"

Finn pauses for a moment, "Wait, _the_ Dalton's? Like, the coffee shop?"

"That's the one," she's surprised he knows about it because it's practically brand new and it's not like customers are pouring in demanding their coffee or anything, even though she'll debate for hours on end how much quality it actually contains, but maybe only because she likes to debate or something – she hasn't figured that out. "I've been picking up extra shifts there because, well… things are tight."

_Like your tights_, he tells himself not to look down at her legs because he's afraid she can like, totally tell he's been staring for the past ten minutes. His face beams a little red and she chuckles. "Sorry to hear," Finn pats her back and then deems himself an idiot because, really? A pat on the back? "Maybe um… maybe being in the band'll help you get back on your feet."

"Maybe," she grins and looks down at her wrist for a split second. "I've gotta go! I guess I'll see you next rehearsal?"

"You'll see me," he nods, smiling at her once more before she totally sprints away from the sidewalk they stand on, still gripping that big black binder she showed him (Which was _totally_ cool because, hey, who would've known Broadway had like, more than ten shows?) tightly against her chest.

She'll see him and he'll see her and it'll all fall into place – she's in the band so it's only fair she become one of them, right?

**... ... ...**

It's Tuesday morning and she's already late to work so she's glad she catches the last bus headed in the direction to Dalton's.

She's groggy eyed because it's only four o'clock in the morning and no sign of sunrise is anywhere. Her hair's in two braids and she slips on her gloves and scarf as she makes way to the back of the almost vacant bus, sitting on the chilled seats as she crosses her legs and lets out a shiver.

"Rachel?" His voice is loud to her; everything's loud to her at four o'clock in the morning. "You're like, the last person I expected to see here."

"Finn… hi!" She taps the empty spot on the seat she's sitting in and signals for him to join her. "What – what are you doing on this bus? Not that it's a problem, because, well, it's not, but… but what are you doing here?"

Finn lets out a laugh and sits down next to her, shuffling his body so his leg is nowhere near touching hers; that'd just be like, super awkward considering they totally just met two days before. "Firefighter," he nods proudly. "My shift starts at five am most mornings."

"That's… that's just… wow," Rachel says. "You know, I can really admire a person with that much bravery to their name. I know _I'd_ be worried sick if someone close to me was a firefighter. It's just… it's a dangerous job." So, she's got no idea what she's saying, so she tells herself to go with what she knows best – when in doubt, ramble it out. "Y'know, my friend – well, not _really_ my friend, more of a co-worker – her boyfriend is a firefighter. Maybe um… maybe you know him."

He shakes his head. "Doubt it. There's like, thousands and thousands of people in each division."

"Yeah," is all she can say without feeling completely stupid.

The bus comes to a halt and before she knows it, so he presses his arm to her shoulder and hoists his body up. "S'my stop."

"Oh," she says.

"I'll see you at rehearsal," he turns around once more before he leaves the aisle of the bus, despite the driver upfront clearing her throat incessantly because '_We've got a route to cover, kid!_'

"Mm," Rachel nods. "I'll see you."

**... ... ...**

**tbc.**

a/n: Like I mentioned above, I've got quite a few chapters outlined thus far, so expect more updates from me. I'm busy with school often, yes, but I'll be sure to make time if people do happen to enjoy this story. Your reviews would be lovely! :)


	2. Chapter 2

She agrees to join the band, sure, but she refuses to just 'take a beer and chill out' because well, she's Rachel Berry – she needs to get right to her warm-ups and there'll be no stopping once she's started.

She likes rehearsal, she does. The two they've had so far are great, really, because she sings what she has to sing, they back her up on the instrumentals and they let her go until next time. They even compliment her on like, three songs, which boost her ego just a bit – she even starts tapping her foot and dancing with the mic stand then, something she's picked up from the little clubs she's gone to in New York City, and they seem to like that too.

But she doesn't like rehearsal when Puck's spread across the sofa with a soda, Mike's piano tuning turns into an hour-long phone call thanks to his girlfriend, and Finn's decided to take on his buddy from the fire station in an intense round of Call of Duty.

"Relax," Puck kicks his feet up on the small coffee table as he leans his head further into the cushion of the sofa. "Take a seat, kick your feet up and pop a cherry."

"Excuse me?" Rachel asks him, narrow-eyed. "Whatever you meant in regards to that… that _term_, it won't work on me. I will not stand in your living room and take these demeaning comments you're throwing at me, I won't."

Puck lets out a snicker, lifts the soda can he's holding up to his mouth and curls his hand into a fist. Puck reaches for Mike, who's sitting on the ledge of the sofa Puck sits on, and pounds his fist to his. "I meant the soda, but if you're willin' to take it that far… well, I've got a bedroom."

"Dude," Finn speaks before Rachel has the chance to defend herself. "Lay off of her!" He looks in Rachel's direction quickly to see if perhaps she sends him a smile – some sort of 'thank you' for like, totally having her back. She doesn't, because her eyes are still narrowed toward Puck, a glint of fury spread across her face. "…It's like, rude." Finn gulps when no one else speaks. Sure, he feels like a total idiot, but he can't let Puck sit there and pick on her, can he?

No one speaks for a long moment and the only sound Finn can hear is a taxi zooming down the road just outside of his apartment building. He looks to Rachel once more and she's totally indifferent to him – she's twiddling her straw through the diet soda she drinks, tapping her fingertips on the side of the can after every sip.

So maybe he _can_ sit there and let Puck pick on her, but it'd probably be best if he didn't.

"She asked for it," Puck answers a long while after everyone's probably already moved on. Rachel's on the floor, her legs spread out in front of her as she flips through a notebook Puck's handed her earlier today – his unfinished beauties, he called it. Mike's next to her as he fiddles with the tangled mess of cords that lie just beneath his piano stand.

"She didn't," Finn snaps. This time, Rachel turns her head, completely placing the notebook she reads down on the floor. "You're like, totally picking on her for no reason. I thought the goal was to make her feel welcome, not pretend she's some stupid sex toy of yours or something…"

"_Sex toy_?" Rachel's narrowing her eyes again, only to Finn this time. He's just glad she's finally looking in his direction. "Oh, so _that's_ why I've been recruited – to be one of your playmates or something, is it? Look, I have no interest in spending any time with any one of you outside of being in this band. I… I'm just your lead singer and that's all I'll be."

"No one's asking you to be like, a groupie or anything. Relax, Berry." Puck's snickering once more and all she can do is be completely offended, even though she wants to believe it's just Puck in his natural habit – acting out as an asshole _just_ because. "Besides, you don't have to worry about Finn or Mike over here makin' a move on you; they're both totally taken."

She pauses for a moment and looks to Finn, who's looking down to the ground, twiddling his thumbs as they rest in the middle of his lap. "Oh," is all she can manage to say because, well, she knew Mike was taken, but she _definitely_ didn't know Finn was taken. It's not that it matters, really; she's got no interest in Finn and he's certainly got no interest in her.

"Rachel, the last thing I'd try to do is disrespect you," Mike says. "I'm just happy we've finally found ourselves a lead singer with some vocal chops, y'know?"

She nods and Puck points his finger to Mike because, "Hey! Santana was a pretty kickass singer too!"

"For a drunk, sure," Mike says as he high fives Finn. "The good looking chicks aren't always the most talented; we've learned that lesson."

"Oh," Rachel snickers. "So you figured since I'm hardly attractive I'd be a better choice, since, y'know, 'the good looking chicks aren't always the most talented'." She looks at the three of them as she mocks them in a monotone voice, her arms folded beneath her breasts. "I should've known you'd all turn out to be complete jerk-offs."

"Hey, wait a minute," Finn says just before she can lift her body up from the floor where she sits and storm out of the room in anger, something she's perfected just wonderfully in only two rehearsals and through a re-run of _Dirty Jobs_ the guys totally ditched that second rehearsal for. "We never said you weren't attractive."

Puck grunts, eyeing Finn. "Speak for yourself, dude."

"Not cool, dude," Finn replies, throwing a harsh glance over to Puck who simply shrugs. He turns his body to Rachel, who's in a completely tense manner, her eyes to the floor as she lets out a round of huffs that kind of scare him a little bit. "Rachel… you're not like, not attractive."

"Well, gee, thanks Finn," she answers sarcastically. "That makes it a whole load better."

"What I mean is, you're pretty," Finn rubs his palms together and rises up from the amplifier he's sitting atop, making small steps to where Rachel sits, spread across the floor in their living room. "And if it helps, you're prettier than that Santana girl… y'know, the one Puck's always talking about."

"She's _so_ not!" Puck chants.

"No one asked you," Mike replies before Finn can – he's glad he does, because that's not all Finn would've said. At this point, he's pretty close to sprinting over to the couch and pulling his best friend into a headlock, threatening to throw out his cigarettes if he tries to insult her one more time, but since Mike answers, he's pretty sure he doesn't need to. It's not like he's defending her for a real reason, really; she's just the new band member and it'd kind of suck to lose her.

Only, he doesn't exactly know why it'd suck; they've lost loads of band members before.

Maybe she's different.

(He'll go with that one for now.)

**... ... ...**

Rehearsal runs late – like, one am late. Rachel's yawning through _Living on a Prayer_ so they definitely don't try to sing something else.

Puck orders a pizza and Rachel says she can't eat it – she's read eating past midnight is bad for the body and causes weight gain and all of that crap. So he brings her to the kitchen and she offers to grab the plates for him, looking to the cabinets just above the counter.

"Look again," he shifts his eyes to the countertop and points just next to the breadbox where a stack of foam plates lie. She looks as if he's committed a murder in front of her very eyes. "S'the way we do things in this place."

"I still don't want pizza," she grips the stack of plates with her hands, placing them into his as he holds the pizza box open with one hand and retrieves the plates with another.

"Psh, weight gain my ass," Puck smirks, ripping open the box with both of his hands as Finn and Mike unplug all of the equipment. "You ever heard of a little thing called 'rule breaking', Rachel?"

She shakes her head and just looks at him with those big brown eyes that kind of intimidate him yet turn him on all at the same time. "…I've never been one to do it."

"Welcome to the band, Barbie," he chuckles. "S'all we do."

Rachel looks kind of scared now – he's not sure he likes it too much.

"Well don't be scared," he places one hand to her shoulder, his expression slipping a little. "It's not like I was gonna make you smoke a cig or anything."

"Oh," she answers. "Well that's… that's relieving."

"Is it?" He teases. "It's not my job to corrupt you – you're my pal now; my band mate. S'only my job to hope you like your job – bein' in the band and stuff."

"I like it," she replies, shaking her head 'yes' dramatically – Puck totally thinks that's for effect or something. "But it's not a job; it's a hobby."

"You say that now," Puck nudges her upper arm with his elbow, the both of them letting out a chuckle as he starts to slice the pizza. "Eat this, alright? You've had a long night and crap and I don't wanna turn on the news to hear about some girl who collapsed on the subway due to like, starvation or some shit."

She shrugs her shoulder, "Should I go get Finn and Mike?"

"Would you?" He asks her. "I'll cut the rest of these slices, 'kay? Go see what those two jackasses are up to."

So she goes – she walks out of the kitchen and into the living room but Finn and Mike aren't there at all.

"Tell him to come out here," she hears a voice, but it's neither of theirs. She walks closer to the doorway and places her head just close enough to make out a not one voice but a few. "I don't _care_ if he's mad at me!"

"But _we_ care," she thinks it's Mike talking but she's not sure. "You can't just come back around here and go all chick batty on him one day and then remind him how in love you are the next; you can't."

"It was a mistake," the voice answers – she's sure it's a girl now; she's sure the girl's crying or close to crying, too. "I mean, I thought I was done with him after all of the shit he made me put up with – the weed, dropping out of school, having this _stupid_ dream of creating some _stupid_ band with you assholes; everything!"

"Face it," she thinks it's either Finn or Mike, but the tears just get louder and more apparent and she's pretty sure she hears a stomp or a slam or something. Before she peers her head against the door once more, Rachel looks back to the kitchen to make sure Puck's not coming – he's too into his pizza cutting right now, she thinks. "You and Puck don't work; I know that, he knows that and you know that, Santana."

Santana. She knows she's heard that name before, but she's not exactly sure where. She remembers three guys and a beer and blonde girl and bail and… _Santana_.

She takes small strides back into the kitchen, tiptoeing in only her knee-high socks as she glides across the hardwood floor. "Noah? I… I had a question."

"Shoot," he answers, his mouth full of pizza dough.

She whispers, her eyes closed tightly. "Who is… um, who's Santana?"

He chokes a little bit on the food he's chewing, his eyes bulging out of their sockets as he slams the foam plate he's holding down on the counter. "The fuck you know about Santana?"

"I think she's here," Rachel tells him. "I… I heard the guys talking to someone named Santana out in the hallway."

"Shut up, Berry… shit, shit, _shit_!" He pounds his hands, now clenched into two rounded fists, onto the countertop three times as he chants swears out to Rachel, who stands innocently confused in the doorway to his kitchen. "You don't understand, Rachel, she's like… she's the reason I am the way I am today and… _fuck_."

"You're right, I _don't_ understand," Rachel admits. "Can you please enlighten me on all of this? What the hell is going on anyway?"

"You sure it's her, right?"

"Yes," Rachel insists. "I heard Finn – or maybe it was Mike – I heard one of the guys say her name, clear as day."

"Go to my room," he demands, pointing for Rachel to exit the kitchen. "She can't see you here, okay?"

"Why's that?" Rachel questions him with curious eyes, nervously running her fingers down the bangs that cover her forehead like a canopy.

"She'll think I'm having you over to like, replace her," he answers.

"Replace her? Noah, you and I aren't –"

He interrupts, "Right, but Santana doesn't know that. Look, she's got issues – like, a shitload of 'em. She leaves me one day with just a note and comes back two weeks later with an 'I'm sorry' card from Hallmark and a wad of cash she stole from her dad's practice because she thinks we can 'make things right'." Puck tells her in a mocking tone as she stands still, her hands folded just below her chest as she huffs in confusion.

"She's the one you loved, right?"

"No time for that talk now, Berry," he sighs. "Besides, that's none of your fucking business anyway. Just go like, hangout with Finn and Mike in my room and let me deal with this one in the hallway, 'kay?"

She nods her head and doesn't say another word – she promises herself she won't question him not once. _Because we're band mates now; band mates are supposed to be there for one another, right?_ She asks herself silently.

**... ... ...**

It's two-thirty am and after a special of the boys' favorite, _Dirty Jobs_, they thank Rachel for sitting through it with them and all she can do is nod and say it was no problem because really, it wasn't – the yelling outside in the hallway was and still is thousands of times more irksome.

"I can't believe it's almost three in the morning and I still haven't made my way to the subway," Rachel tells both Finn and Mike in between a round of yawns.

"Do the subways even run at three in the morning?" Finn questions her sleepily, his fingers running over his heavy eyelids as he sits at the foot of Puck's bed in his and Puck's bedroom.

"I suppose," Rachel chuckles. "But it's scary, y'know? She nods and so does Finn. "I'm always afraid of being mugged or… or worse, _violated_."

"Why'd you whisper that – violated?" Finn asks her with a tired laugh. "Don't worry, Mike and I won't let anything bad happen to you, right –"

Rachel looks across from the bed where she and Finn are sitting and onto Mike, whose body is curled up inside of a throw blanket as he's draped across two pillows, his head nestled deep in them. "Someone's a little worn out after _Dirty Jobs_, aren't they?"

"C'mon," Finn's standing up now as he waves Rachel toward the dresser he's walking to.

"Where are you going?"

"You too," he tells her. "You can wear one of my t-shirts."

"I'm pretty sure my clothes will do, Finn," she says quietly, tugging on the collar of the burgundy turtleneck she's wearing.

"Not when you're sleeping, they won't. C'mere, try this on." He's gripping an oversized gray t-shirt with some sort of team name she's got no recognition of embroidered across the front. "You can always wear it as like, a dress."

"Nightgown," she corrects him. "And out of curiosity, where will I be sleeping?"

"Well, Mike's in Puck's bed so that's out of the question," he rubs his hands together, shifting his glance from Rachel to Mike and back to Rachel once more. "You take my bed; I'll make up a bed on the floor or something."

"I can't let you do that," she protests. "I'll tell you what – you take your own bed and I'll just be on my way to the subway; y'know, where I'm actually _supposed_ to be."

"You're like, three hours too late for that," Finn says. "I'm not letting you go outside at three am to get like, violated or some garbage like that."

She rolls her eyes and folds her arm before letting out a huff, unwillingly rising from the foot of the bed. "Fine, I'll try it on, but if it doesn't fit I'm wearing this turtleneck to bed."

"Suit yourself," he tells her with a laugh.

"Don't mind if I do," Rachel giggles. "Where's the bathroom?"

He points outside of the door and to the right and she nods, clutching his shirt tightly with her right hand and fleeing the room, careful to shut the door quietly. Just as she pulls the doorknob, Finn stands behind her and grabs it himself, twisting it when he's on the outside of the door.

"Would you like to join me?" She teases. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I've been capable of going to the bathroom myself since I was… well, three and a half, but…"

"Just checkin' to see if it fits, that's all," he talks over the much too apparent yelling from the hallway he knows both he and Rachel are just dying to cringe over even though they keep their cool.

"'Kay," she smiles with her tongue and opens the door to the bathroom, clutching the shirt tightly to her chest as she gives him a little head nod before closing the door completely.

So he stands outside of the bathroom at the end of the hallway and just waits. He thinks that maybe, just maybe he should walk on over to his bed and start ripping the extra blankets off, creating his own space for himself on the floor, but he stays anyway because, well, he just _does_.

"So does it fit?" He presses his head up against the door because it's quiet – too quiet. Puck and Santana have stopped their yelling, or so he thinks, and Rachel's silent too. "Rachel?"

"Mmm, not exactly," she twists the doorknob and squeezes out of the door, her body draped in his t-shirt. "It's more like a blanket…"

He giggles, looking up and down her body a minute before saying a word. "It'll do, right? Here, let me… lemme help." She's fidgeting with the sleeves on her forearm, which normally come up to his biceps, so he reaches his hand out fixes them for her.

"Oh," Rachel starts. "Oh… thank you." She runs her fingers over the sleeves Finn's twisted around her forearm and rolled up for her, his eyes still looking down at the t-shirt that drapes over her body like a tent. "I feel funny, y'know, not wearing any um, well… I'm not wearing pants." He giggles and all she can do is shoot him a serious look because, really, she's a lady; she can't not wear any pants without feeling surpassingly uncomfortable, especially in front a guy she's just met.

"It's fine," she hears him scoff and she's not sure why. "Let's just… let's go to sleep, 'kay?" So he opens the door to his and Puck's bedroom and she follows because, well, she's got no choice, ultimately.

She insists he doesn't move a single blanket from his bed and to the floor because she can't just make him sleep on the floor; _she'll_ sleep on the floor. "Just hand me a blanket and maybe a pillow and I'll make up a bed on the floor for myself. I can't take your bed from you, Finn. That's just… no."

"Rachel, it's fine, really," he shrugs. "Most nights when I'm working early the next morning I just sleep on the cot Mike usually sleeps on when he's not staying with his girlfriend; I'm used to it."

"On a _cot_?" She speaks as if it's a crime and he chuckles because, really, he doesn't think he minds sleeping on a cot for one night if she'll have his bed. "I suppose you'll enjoy dropping out of the band to receive surgery on your crippling back by the time you're twenty-three then because –"

He flattens out the two pillows he's placed on the top of his bed side by side by the time she stops talking. "We'll just both sleep here then, okay?"

She quivers her lip and doesn't bother answering him – she can't exactly say yes. (She completely remembers the mention of 'Finn' and 'girlfriend' in the same sentence.) "I… well…"

"C'mon," he claps his palm down on the bed and she just shakes her head casually.

"Alright," Rachel tells him hesitantly. "But I would've taken the cot."

"No need," he says.

"Okay," is all she can manage to say before she runs one finger over her weary eyelid and climbs into the covers he's holding up with his hands.

"Goodnight," he tells her before climbing into bed next to her, careful to leave enough room between them for it to be somewhat comfortable to her and totally not awkward because he _totally_ just met her and stuff.

"Mmm," she mumbles, her hand over her eyes as she twists her body so she's nestled face first into the pillow. "Goodnight."

He flicks the switch on the lamp by his beside off and licks the dryness off his lips before looking to Rachel, who he's pretty sure, is out like a light. "Thanks."

There's a bit of shuffling and her arm almost knocks him straight in the cheekbone as it fails to find a comfortable spot atop the pillow, but she says nothing, so he's like, a hundred and ten percent sure she doesn't hear him.

"No," he's shocked when she actually answers him, even if it feels like five minutes later. "Thank _you_."

He's not sure exactly what she's thanking him for but he thinks he's thanking her for like, staying – he thinks.

Or maybe he's thanking her for not sleeping on that cot or insisting he doesn't sleep on that cot either.

Either way, the only thing he's sure about is that the feel of her bare foot brushes up against his ankle – he's sure about that. He's also sure that she talks in her sleep. He's not sure about what because it's four am and she starts to giggle to herself so all he can do is shoot his head up and watch – but not in that creepy 'I'm a stalker so I'll just look at you while you're sleeping' kind of way.

"Finn?" Shit, she's totally awake and she totally just saw him watching her; he's screwed.

"Yeah," he tries his best to ignore those thoughts – she couldn't have seen him because, well, she was _totally_ asleep. "You alright?"

She's sleepy and it's kind of like, super cute. He slaps himself for thinking it, but it's really, really cute and he can't take back his thoughts now.

"Did the yelling stop?" She blinks her eyes twice and rolls her entire body over so she's facing him, leaning on one elbow for support. Her hair's teased and it rolls off her shoulders in long, brunette waves and he can't help but notice that she's like, uniquely pretty and a million different things he shouldn't be noticing at all.

"Yeah," he says quietly. "I think she went home."

"Cool." And she falls back asleep, just like that.

Damn, this girl.

**... ... ...**

Finn tiptoes his way into the kitchen at eight-thirty in the morning because his stomach's been grumbling for the good part of an hour and he's craving pancakes like, super badly. He feels pretty weird leaving Rachel alone in his bed, but then he looks to Puck's bed where Mike's entire body is spread across, even if he's covered all the way to his nose in blankets, so he thinks she'll be alright.

"'Sup?" Puck's sitting at the kitchen table and he's not alone either – two boxes of Kleenex, one set of house keys and a teary-eyed brunette with one of the blankets from the living room sofa draped over her body join him.

He's confused but he doesn't ask anything because he just wants his pancakes. "Mornin'."

"Santana's here," Puck tells him. (Captain obvious is what Finn's totally calling him from now on.)

"I know," Finn says. "Hey San."

"Hi," Santana responds with a sniffle, her eyes looking anywhere but to Finn as she dabs a wad of tissue just beneath her right eyelid, totally ignoring the stream of mascara that runs down her entire face.

"Dude, let's talk in the hallway, 'kay?" Puck shoots his head up and Finn drops the box of pancake mix he's holding down on the countertop.

"Uh, sure…" He says wearily. "Just let me –"

"Just let you nothin'," Puck snaps. "C'mon, asshole."

So he's standing in the hallway with Puck and he's wearing nothing but a wife beater and boxer shorts and he's about to kill whoever owns the shitty ass apartment building they're stuck in because they _totally_ forgot to invest in a heating system.

"You so fucked last night," Puck blurts out as he looks to Finn who stands groggily in front of him, rubbing his hands together for warmth or some crap.

"What… dude, what the hell are you talking about?"

"You know… Berry," Puck nudges Finn in the forearm and lets out a little snicker. "You two were like, tangled in each other and shit."

"We were sleeping," Finn's defensive and Puck's still laughing like a total moron so the feeling of wanting to pounce on him and punch him square in the face comes pretty naturally to Finn. "Rachel was tired but Mike and I didn't want her taking the subway so.."

"Mike nothin'," Puck laughs. "Mike was sleeping like, the entire time."

"So what," Finn says. "The subway's like, completely dangerous at night."

"S'not the point," he shakes his head and pats Finn on the shoulder. "The point is you two were all over each other and I'm like, this close to telling Spencer."

"What… wait, why would you even try?" Finn's eyes are so far out of the sockets Puck swears he needs a picture to savor the moment. "Rachel and I were _sleeping_. You can't even try to pull that shit on me, dude. You know how Spencer gets."

"And you know how Santana gets but you gladly told her how much we 'didn't belong together' and shit," Puck spits nothing but mockery at Finn. "Nice goin', buddy. If you think the bitch hated me before, well…"

"It's not my fault your relationship is too fucked to ever be fixed again, dude," Finn tells him as Puck shoots him an offended glare, clapping his hands together.

"Dig yourself a deeper hole, asshole," Puck grunts.

Finn just wants to knock as many of Puck's teeth out as he can, but he holds himself back because he's super hungry and all he can think about are the pancakes again.

"So…" Puck starts after a long round of silence. "If you weren't fucking, why were your feet all tangled and shit? And… and why were you sweaty?"

"Dunno," Finn admits. "We _were_ sleeping kind of close, so I guess it got hot in there or something."

"Nice," Puck smirks. "Those are just keywords for like, sexual shit, right?"

"Totally," Finn tells him sarcastically.

"Knew it."

**... ... ...**

He makes enough pancakes for him and for Puck and Santana too, even if she refuses and gives Finn the finger after the fifth time he tries to shove a stack full of pancakes in front of her face, "C'mon, you have to eat!"

"Fuck off," is all she responds.

"Leave her," Puck warns him. "Let her be a nasty, bitter bitch."

She sticks her tongue out at him – juvenile but _totally_ Santana from what Finn's witnessed at least – and hoists her body up from her chair and sprints down the hall.

"The fuck you think you're goin'?" Puck asks with a mouthful of pancakes. "Santana?"

All he and Finn can hear is a yell and then another yell and then something valuable hitting the floor. (Finn _totally_ bets it's the glass vase Puck's Nana Connie insisted be passed down to him – something about Jewish heritage and all that crap.)

"I'm not Noah's mistress!" The boys hear as they make way to the bedroom Santana's clearly entered.

"Oh, so you're _that_ special?" Santana hisses. "He's 'Noah' to you, huh?"

Rachel throws her body out of the blankets and sits up in the bed she's laying in, only to be pushed down by the hand of Puck as he walks over to her.

"Rachel, sit," Puck tells her. "Santana, lemme explain before you go all wacko on Berry over here, 'kay? You see, Rachel's Finn's girlfriend, not mine."

Puck turns around to both Finn and Rachel and he's not sure whose eyes widen more.

"I… I," Rachel stutters but Puck's grunt tells her she should go with it. Of course she's not _really_ Finn's girlfriend – she knows that and Finn knows that so it's completely okay, right?

"Go back to the kitchen and shove some pancakes down – your skinny ass could use some," Puck tells her as she responds with a snicker and slams the door.

"Dude," is all Finn can say.

"Don't worry, it won't be too awkward for you," Puck tells Finn with a laugh. "You got the screwing each others' brains out part right, so…"

Damn Puck. Damn, damn, damn Puck.

**... ... ...**

She's not so sure if they're supposed to act it out and he can't bring himself to ask.

Finn offers to bring her home because she's got an afternoon shift. "I'm covering for this lady named Spencer at my job," Rachel tells him. "She's got a lunch date with her boyfriend who she claims she 'hardly sees', so I figured it's the least I could do, y'know?"

Right, he _totally_ won't be on a lunch date down at McKinley's bar and grill with that lady named Spencer. Nope.

"Cool," is all he says, a head nod included as he keeps his focus on the road and not down to Rachel's totally distracting, fidgety knee.

"She's rather moody," Rachel continues. "I mean, she has her moments, yes, but the woman's barely good for anything besides whipping up a cappuccino or two and then fleeing to the back room to incessantly send her boyfriend updates via text about these pointless situations she creates for herself. Like this one time –"

"I get it," Finn snaps even though he doesn't mean to. "I mean, she must be _totally _annoying."

"She is," Rachel says, flattening her hands down through the ruffles of her pleated skirt.

"What'd you say her name was?" Finn asks.

"Spencer," Rachel replies. "Not so sure of her last name, although it wouldn't hurt to figure it out. I mean, she _is_ a fellow employee after all."

"Fields," Finn mumbles, his hands gripping the wheel extra tightly.

"Pardon?"

"Fields," he says. "Her name is Spencer Fields."

"And how would you –" Rachel pauses, uncurling her lips as they drop suddenly, her cheeks flushing a tone of light pink. "Oh my goodness, I should've pieced it together – firefighter boyfriend, works the morning shifts, hardly available to go on dates. Holy..."

"Yeah," Finn says indifferently.

"I'm sorry for all I said about her before," Rachel apologizes, a wave of guilt swiping across her body.

"S'okay," Finn tells her, taking one hand off of the wheel and placing it just above her kneecap, causing her to jerk her body back just a little bit. "It's not like the things you said were like, lies."

"So you thinks she makes a mean cappuccino too?" God, she's such a screwup and she tells herself she wouldn't be shocked if Finn pulled over on the side of the road and told her to find a taxi home. But he doesn't.

"No," he answers honestly. "All of the other things."

"Oh," is all she can say without feeling _too_ guilty.

"And she doesn't make a mean cappuccino," he tells her after a moment of pure silence. "Actually, her cappuccinos suck."

"Oh," she says again.

"Yeah," he nods his head because he totally just screwed up, or so he thinks. He basically badmouthed his girlfriend, the girl he's like, totally supposed to love, to his pretend girlfriend.

So, she's not his pretend girlfriend and they're not supposed to put on the act for anyone besides Santana, but it wouldn't hurt just to pretend for like, a little while, would it?

**... ... ...**

"Something went down last night," Puck's pacing around the living room when Santana's finally gone and it's just him and Mike alone.

"Mmm," Mike just nods his head. "I was out cold after that last episode of Dirty Jobs so I had no clue of anything except for like, pillows."

Puck arches his brow and picks up the beer resting on the coaster atop his amplifier – a permanent go-to spot for his Coronas. "You think Finn'll break things off with Spenc for Rachel?"

"Do I?" Mike asks. "Probably not. I wouldn't be surprised if he wanted both."

"You're right," Puck shakes his head and slams the beer down once more on top of the amp. "And people think _I'm_ the whore."

Mike's silent because, well, he respects his best friend and all, he does, but he's pretty sure he's done his share of whoring around too – he's got a mental list of like, ten girls Puck's slept with since like, sophomore year of high school.

"I won't let him fuck with her," Puck says, clenching his right hand into a fist and shaking it. (Dramatic effect, Mike likes to call it.) "She's too good to lose right now, s'pecially if we wanna get into McKinley's."

"Yup," Mike agrees.

"She's our band mate and that's it – Hudson's gotta keep it in his pants."

"You tried to get with her too," Mike confesses.

Puck shakes his head because Mike's wrong – he's totally, totally wrong. "There's a difference between casual flirting and screwing a girls' brains out. I was flirtin', but s'not like I wanted to screw the little munchkin. She looks like she's twelve and has a weird ass plaid fetish; not for me, dude."

"Oh," Mike's not a man of many words and Puck's still debating whether that's a good thing or a bad thing.

"Thanks for the help man," Puck grunts sarcastically. "Always a pleasure talkin' shit out with you."

"I'm not the one you gotta talk to," Mike tells him. "Talk to Rachel; ask _her_ what went down last night. Chances are, she'll be more honest with you than Finn ever will."

They're band mates, Puck and Rachel, so he doesn't expect their friendship (their _whatever_) to turn into a giddy little round of truth or dare or some crap like that. But since they're friends now (band mates; same difference) he only knows it's worth a shot.

"Fine," Puck hisses. "But I swear to God, if that chick lies to me, she's totally outta here."

**... ... ...**

**tbc.**

a/n: Yes, this story will include a Puck/Rachel friendship – I haven't mentioned that before so I'll say it now. I would definitely support one so I figured, 'why not'? I would like to thank you for all of the reviews however; they really do mean so much and are quite motivational. Please continue, for if reviews continue, it is _much_ easier to commit to updating this fic!


	3. Chapter 3

a/n: Yes, this story is now rated 'M' to be kept on the safe side. Changing the story to a mature rating helps me broaden my horizons as a writer and helps me not to worry whether what I'm writing is censored enough. It helps when writing Puck and Santana, let me tell you… Enjoy!

**... ... ...**

Mike calls it 'bonding', Puck calls it 'what the fuck ever', Finn's indifferent to the idea either way because he's far too busy exchanging texts with his girlfriend to pay attention and Rachel just shrugs and asks if they've got a Vegan-friendly restaurant where they're going.

"S'all Mike's idea," Puck tells Rachel, who's pacing across the small area rug in his and Finn's bedroom. "I only agreed to go because he told me he'd pay for my ticket on the ferry."

She lets out a hum, then, "That's nice, I suppose." She walks over to the flat mirror leaning up against the wall closest to Finn's bed and takes a strand of hair between her fingers, twirling it softly.

"Who the fuck are you trying to impress, munchkin?" He snickers.

"No one!"

"Don't pull that shit on me," he asks as he looks onto her, running her hands smoothly over both sides of her cheeks as she stares into the mirror. "You're blushing and stuff."

She sighs once, walking over to where he sits on the edge of his bed. She stands over him with a sheepish grin, her cheeks still flushed as she crosses her arms beneath her breasts and lets out a huff. "He has a girlfriend," Rachel tells him as he bears a look of complete confusion, arching his brow and pursing his lips together. "Finn… he has a girlfriend. He'd never take interest in someone like me after being with someone like Spencer Fields, that's for sure."

"So you know?" Puck asks her with a whisper. He boosts his body up from the bed and shuts the door, looking once past his room and to the kitchen, making sure Finn and Mike are occupied with the sandwiches they're supposed to be making.

"What are you doing?" Rachel asks with a hiss.

"Checkin' to make sure our buddies aren't peepin' in our conversation, princess," Puck smirks. "Now tell me, what'd Finn do to you to spark this sudden… interest?"

"There's… there's no interest, Noah," Rachel snaps. "It's not like the moment he lent me his t-shirt triggered this feeling of love for him or anything."

"Oh," Puck remarks. "So he lent you his t-shirt, huh?"

She nods in silence, placing her hands deep down inside the pockets of her denim jacket.

"Where's the t-shirt?"

Rachel's blushing again and all he can do is snicker. By this point he knows he's being an asshole, but if anyone's allowed to screw around with the new chick it should be him, right?

"On… on the floor in my dorm room," Rachel answers softly.

"I won't say anything else if you don't." He knows it's best she leave it alone – let Finn be with Spencer and back off, basically because, well, it's totally not good for the band and stuff. She knows he's being an asshole so basically, she thinks of hundreds of ways in her head to irk him more and can't help but let out a little cackle he raises his brow at when she does so.

"But he's just _so_ comfortable to lie next to," Rachel adds. "It's like laying next to a –"

"Shut it, Berry!" He says, voice terse. "I think it's pretty much against the rules of like, band mate code to, y'know, snatch the drummer away from his super hot girlfriend. We're all bros here; not hoes."

She opens her lips dramatically as she runs her right hand through the bangs that sit on her forehead. "He speaks pretty ill of this 'super hot girlfriend' if you ask me." She knows she's wrong. She knows she should've kept her mouth shut because well, the conversation between her and Finn was just that – a conversation between her and Finn. But she can't stop now.

"What'd he say?" Puck asks, a hint of interest to his voice for once.

So she doesn't stop. "Well… more like agreed to," she bites her lip and brushes off the tingle of guilt that pings away at her. "He, um, he mainly agreed with what _I_ said about her."

"I knew it!" Puck yells in victory. "You're so jealous of this chick. What'd he do, show you her picture? Is she hotter than you? Does she wear shorter skirts?"

"No, no, no!" Rachel cries. "It's not like that all. As of two days ago, I wasn't even aware that Finn and Spencer were… involved."

"Right," Puck nods. "So how'd you find out her name? What'd you do, screw Finn until he told you?"

"You're an animal," Rachel says with a hiss.

"So is Finn," Puck laughs. "He fucked the insanity right out of you. C'mon, spill."

"Spencer's my co-worker," Rachel says sternly, taking a seat on the edge of Puck's bed as he scoots over, leaving a small space for her. "We work at Dalton's together."

"S'cool," Puck nods. "I mean, it's cool that you know Spencer and shit. She's cool from what I've seen."

"You've seen her?" She thinks she's jealous now, but she tells herself as long as she keeps it cool that maybe, just maybe he won't be able to tell.

"Few times," Puck says. "Finn's only brought her over here like, once; at least once when I was here."

"She was here?" Of course she was here, she's Finn's girlfriend, but the odd rage of jealousy strikes her like a tidal wave and once she gets going, she can't seem to stop.

"She didn't sleep in my bed," Puck chuckles. "But sure, she was here. She slept on the couch with Finn and when I woke up her clothes were all over my living room floor along with two bottles of whipped cream so I kept my cool and went back to sleep until the bitch left and took that dumb whipped cream I know I didn't buy with her."

"Oh," Rachel says quietly with a nod. "Must be fun for um… for Finn."

"S'not that fun," Puck tells her. "Not when I kicked his ass for gettin' whipped cream all over my favorite pillows."

"Do you fight a lot?" She figures it's best she changes the subject while she can. She doesn't know how much longer she can talk of Finn and his 'super hot' girlfriend and the whipped cream pillows. "You and Finn… do you fight a lot?"

"It's a bro thing," Puck tells her with a smirk. "Once he gets in the door he pretty much expects a pounding from me, s'pecially if I'm riled up from a few rounds of Call of Duty or some shit like that. S'not like I'd hurt him with a purpose, though. He knows I'd only hurt him for one thing; I told him already."

"And that would be…?"

"Screwin' around with you, princess," Puck answers. "I'll kick his ass if he tries to get with you once while we're trying to make our band big, y'know? We don't need any distractions, s'pecially from our lead singer who could be like, a fucking golden ticket to stardom. You may be insane and you may not dig our _Dirty Jobs_ marathons but you've got pipes, Berry."

She thinks he complimented her but her limbs are shaky and she's just glad she's sitting at the ledge of Puck's bed because she's pretty sure if she were standing she wouldn't be able to. "What's so wrong about that?" Damn her mouth. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

"'Bout you not likin' _Dirty Jobs_ or the Finn bullshit?"

"The Finn… _that_," she nods.

"If he leaves Spencer for you – which, trust me, could happen – then our band's screwed," Puck tells her. "You two'll be all in love and shit for awhile but once that's all gone – which again, trust me, _will_ happen – one of you'll end up quitting the band because it'll be too hard to be in the same room with one another without wanting to like, bash a pair of symbols over each others' heads."

Rachel just rolls her eyes.

"I'm serious, munchkin," he nods. "Take it from me; I come from experience. Santana, sure – high school girlfriend, moved out here with me to New York after graduation with some stupid dream of makin' it big; being superstars in this band with me and my buds. She supported me, y'know, she did." He nods, even though Rachel swears she sees a glint of fire in his eyes; a glint of anger and rage and everything else, too. "I can't say I loved her because, well, I don't even think I love myself enough to actually love a woman and all that bullshit, but she was cool. She was our lead singer and we were doin' good, goin' places, but one day it was all gone."

Rachel stays quiet but places her right hand over his kneecap and just rests it there. Whether it's for sympathy or she just wants to get all hands-on and shit (totally Puck's guess), it feels kind of nice and neither of them say a word about it.

"S'why you and Finn can't be… involved," he says. "It'll all be perfect one minute, sure, but the next it'll be like fucking _fire_. We can't lose you, 'kay Berry?"

"But what if it works?" She's never been one to just give up, so she surely doesn't stop now.

"What if _what_ works?"

"What if Finn and I work?" She's confident and he's confident that she's insane. "You never know until you try, right? I… I'm just speaking hypothetically here, of course, but –"

"No," Puck intrudes. "Come our first show, you'll see why I'm right. You may be as stubborn as fuck right now, but I'm tellin' you, first show and you'll totally get what I mean."

"Sure," Rachel nods. "But it doesn't mean I have to listen to you in the meantime."

"Fiesty."

"No," she shakes her head and pulls her arm away from the cap of his knee. "Just curious."

"We've got ten minutes before we head out and I've got an empty bedroom, so…"

She slaps the side of his left arm and lets out a chuckle. "You're supposed to be my band mate, not a barbaric pig."

"Friend," Puck tells her. "I'm your friend, y'know."

"Then as my friend, let me be curious without your unnecessary intrusions."

"Fine," Puck hisses. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

"I take consequences well," Rachel nods with confidence.

All he can do is snicker, "Not when Hudson breaks that pretty little heart of yours right into millions of fucking pieces."

**... ... ...**

They ride the ferry into Staten Island and she can't say it isn't nice. Sure, Mike's on the phone with his girlfriend Tina the entire time because she's driving up to Jersey for the weekend alone and he's full of paranoia. But Rachel thinks it's kind of cute so all she does is place her hand to his shoulder and assures him, "Jersey's full of lousy drivers. Let Tina show 'em how New Yorkers do."

He just flashes her a warming grin and tells Tina that even Rachel's confident her driving kicks any Jersey drivers' ass. Not exactly her words, but sweet nonetheless.

"Hey," Finn talks to her when he's sure no one else is listening. Puck's dead asleep, unknowingly resting part of his head on a little old lady's shoulder, even though she doesn't seem to mind. Mike's giggling with Tina but reminding her every five seconds to keep her eyes on the road and thanking God for Bluetooth.

"Hi," Rachel smiles a small smile, scooting a touch closer to his body on the bench they share. "Is this something you do all the time?"

Crap, he's got no idea what she means and he _really_ doesn't want to ask her if she means innocently scooting like, super close to her on a bench on the ferry so he just arches his brow in confusion.

"Do you take the ferry into Staten Island a lot?" She hears him let out a breath.

Finn answers, "Just whenever we need a bonding day, y'know, just a day to kick back and stuff."

"Isn't bonding more for, well, the male members of the band?" She asks nervously and all he does is let out a chuckle. "I feel like I'm intruding on some special ritual of yours. I feel silly about it, that's all."

"Trust me," he tells her. "We want you here." So maybe he wants her here like, a _little_ bit more than Mike or Puck wants her here but they totally don't mind her coming along, so he's not exactly telling a lie, right? "I mean, it's cool to have a girl along. The guys and I get bored sometimes, y'know, talking about guitars and the Discovery Channel. Having a girl could spice up some cool conversation or something."

"Spencer's a girl too," she blurts out before she herself even notices.

Finn's just quiet, rubbing his hands together as he places them down onto his lap with a small huff. "Yeah," he answers. "But she's not you or anything."

"Meaning…?"

"You're a member of our band and she's just… she's my girlfriend," he says.

"Oh," she says nothing else the whole way because she's afraid she might ruin something. What she'll ruin, she doesn't know, but she doesn't feel like being a risk taker right now so she shuts her eyelids, leans her head onto the side opposite from Finn and onto a glass window, and pretends to be sleepy.

**... ... ...**

They're outside of a tiny bagel shop on the corner of Harbor and the wind's blowing so it's only natural Rachel's skin is painted with millions of tiny goose bumps.

"Want my jacket?" Finn offers but she shakes her head.

"I've still got your t-shirt in my dorm," Rachel tells him. "Lend me any more clothing and I'll have to start my own collection." Crap, she's totally corny and he's totally going to despise being anywhere near her by the end of the day. She knows it.

"That's adorable," he chuckles. Rachel breathes a sigh of relief and wraps her arms around her body, hugging herself tightly as she lets out a shiver. "You can keep the t-shirt, s'no big deal. It's like, three sizes too tight on me anyway."

"Thanks," is all she says.

He nods his head, "Sure, but take my jacket. You can't be sick for our gig next week."

Mike chimes in and Rachel forgets he's standing next to the two of them. "Totally. A sick drummer is one thing but a lead vocalist with a scratchy throat is completely different."

"Yup," Finn agrees. "If we wanna get gigs at McKinley's, we've gotta _kill_ this gig on Saturday night."

Mike nods and high fives Finn, confident smiles gracing the both of their countenances as Rachel looks on with a small grin.

"Can I ask where this gig is?"

"Dalton's," Mike answers just before Finn can open his mouth. "Finn's girlfriend got us in. She's tight with the manager."

Rachel grunts, "That's because the manager is her _boss_." Finn looks up at her and bulges his eyes a little because he _totally_ remembers Rachel saying something about working at Dalton's too. Crap. "He's my boss too, a nice man actually."

"You work for them too?" Mike asks.

"I do," Rachel nods. "I could've gotten you in any day, especially since I'm, y'know, a member of the band."

Finn shoots her an apologetic look and she's all but accepting, looking down to the floor as she sweeps her gold flat across the rough sidewalk.

"I'm sorry," Mike apologies. "If I would've known I would've totally asked you."

Mike's a nice guy, he is, but she only really wants to know if one person and one person only would've asked her – the guy who's crunching a bagel wrapper tightly in between the two of his hands, clearing his throat as he looks over his shoulder; anywhere but her eyes.

She just sighs and continues. "I mean, you went elsewhere and asked Spencer, but we're still in," Rachel says. "That's all that matters, right?"

"Right," Finn chimes in.

**... ... ...**

"Does he talk about her a lot?" Rachel's helplessly bored and Mike and Puck drift off to sleep before the ferry pulls out from the dock in the evening. Finn's her only hope and his drowsy eyes don't look very promising. "Finn?"

"Yeah, sorry," he wipes his eyelids and shoots his head up from the window he's leaning it onto. "What were we talking about again?"

"Puck and Santana," she whispers with a hiss. "Does he talk about her a lot?"

"Depends on the day," Finn says. "Whenever he does it's only 'cuz he misses having her around. Even if he's talking about her just to be a dick, it's 'cuz he misses her."

"Did he love her?"

Finn nods, "Still does. I'm like, ninety-nine percent sure of it. No offence or anything Rachel because, well, I like you a lot and stuff, but… why do you care? I mean, yeah, Puck and Santana are cool and everything, but tell me about you. I'd rather hear about you then the fail that's Puck's love life."

He likes her a lot; that's all she wishes she hears. "I… well, I'm not too interesting."

"Lies," Finn chuckles. "There must be a reason Puck picked you to be in the band, Rachel. You're like, totally awesome."

"If being a part-time barista at a coffee shop while devoting every other moment to school or this band is so interesting, well, I really question the people you've met in your life," she answers him with a giggle. "There's no doubt that about ninety-nine percent of the people you've met before are more interesting than me."

He just shrugs because he totally doesn't feel like debating with her on a ferry or anything. "You got a boyfriend? There must be like, a bunch of guys after you at school, right? You're like, pretty talented in the arts and stuff, so…" He blurts it out when she least expects it, her lips quivering at the question.

"Exactly why boys tend to avoid me," Rachel shrugs, crossing her arms at her waist and placing them in her lap. "They'd rather date a girl who's free to actually go out on Saturday night, not a girl who can't go out because she's got to memorize two acts of _Romeo and Juliet_ for class."

"I think that's cool," Finn tells her and all she can do is look on with big, hopeful eyes, her hands still folded in her lap as she nestles her body further back into the bench seat. "I mean, you're totally devoted to theatre and stuff; you can go far with that."

"Sure," Rachel says. "I mean, I used to think Broadway was an inevitability until I joined this band and realized it's probably all I'll ever have."

"Stop, don't say that." Finn touches his hand to her forearm and leaves it there for a second, rubbing his thumb in circles on the fabric of her denim jacket. "You could totally still be on Broadway and stuff. You're only nineteen so you've got like, tons of time for that."

She laughs because he's totally right. Maybe she just wants his sympathy; maybe she just wants him to say something, _anything_.

"If you're ever on Broadway, you've gotta promise me a ticket," Finn tells her. "That way I can say I was in a band with the chick who's like, dancing around in a Mary Poppins costume. "

"_West Side Story_ is my musical of choice, but I'd be honored to grant you with a ticket," she speaks as if the tickets are in the side pockets of her jackets and he chuckles along with her because it's _totally_ cute, even if he can't let her know that out loud or anything. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For being nice to me," she tells him. "It's really nice to talk to someone about all of this stuff without any judgment, you know?"

"Sure," Finn says. "I'll always be nice to you; you're my friend."

And there the dreaded word goes again. Rachel hates it but she can't tell him not to say it so she sits up in her seat, her shoulders tense as she lets off a small nod. "Friends, right."

**... ... ...**

Santana's car is parked outside of their apartment by the time they get back around midnight. Puck races from outside of the taxi cab and up to her car window, tapping and tapping until a click is finally heard, an angry Puck tugging the door open.

Mike's cell phone is ringing yet again and he runs up to the door of the apartment, but not before saying goodnight to Finn and Rachel, who stand still on the sidewalk, their heads turned to the car Puck and Santana are sitting in.

"Goodnight, you two," Mike says. "I've gotta take this call; we always say goodnight to each other around midnight and she'll kill me if I don't answer."

Finn pounds his fist into Mike's and turns to Rachel, who gives off a small wave.

"He's a good boyfriend," Finn tells her. "There hasn't been a night since like, the tenth grade he hasn't called her every night to just say goodnight. Strange thing is that it doesn't get too tiring either."

Rachel smiles and nods, "Because when you're _really_ in love with someone, it rubs off on everyone around you. Mike'll probably be calling her every night he can't be with her even in his forties, it's guaranteed."

"You think they'll still be together when they're _forty_?" Finn asks like she's just thrown a spew of curse words his way unwarned.

"If it's true love it'll last," Rachel says as she looks onto her with a nod, bringing his hands to his hips. "Speaking of, shouldn't you call _your_ girlfriend and say goodnight? Or do you not –"

"She's out," Finn interrupts. "She went clubbing with a few of her friends and their friends and she told me she'd call me in the morning."

"Oh," is all Rachel says because, well, she's pretty sure he should keep better tabs on his girlfriend. Or maybe it's just her being jealous again – she'll go with that one to play it safe.

"Thing is, she doesn't even care enough to shoot me a text," he continues, spitting his words harshly. "I mean, I know it's just her and a few friends or whatever, but it wouldn't hurt to text me once in awhile, right?"

"Leave me out of this," Rachel says with a chuckle. "I've got no experience in the department of dating. I squeal when the male professor of one of my classes shoots me an email, that's about all."

"Oh, Rachel, god," Finn takes his hand to her lower backside and rests it there, even as she does a small, fidgety jump. "Don't say that, 'kay? You're making _me_ depressed over here."

"But it's true, Finn," she says. "Ask me the last time a guy told me I was pretty; ask me the last time a guy asked me out for Chinese food or invited me to his place just to 'hang out'."

"I thought Vegan's can't eat Chinese…"

"Not the point!" Rachel snaps. "All of those things, Finn, are true. I've kind of learned to live with the fact that perhaps they'll never happen."

Finn clears his throat and lets out a sigh, his hand still lightly grazing her backside. "You look pretty even when you're shooting out those like, super high notes in rehearsal. You looked pretty tonight, too. I mean, that's a really cute jacket and –"

"You're just saying that," her glance hits the floor as she scrapes her shoe along the sidewalk, making an invisible trail with her foot. "Finn, please, don't be nice to me because you feel you're obligated to. I don't need your sympathy, honestly."

He just looks into her eyes and waits until she finally rips her gaze off of the sidewalk. "Listen, Rachel, I'm not saying any of those things for sympathy. I'm not saying them to be nice, either. I'm saying them because they're totally true and well, if guys are that big of assholes that not one of them would ever say those things to you, I wanna be the first."

He doesn't mean to make her cry and he doesn't think she can be because he just totally poured like, a hundred nice words out at her, but her eyes are moist and she presses her small frame up against his gently before he can ask. It's not exactly a hug; more of a 'thank you'.

"And don't ever change for those assholes either, okay? Like, when Puck dumped Santana the few times that he did, she went all Nicole Richie for awhile and it was scary – like, skeletal scary." He still feels the touch of her on him. She hasn't pulled her body away and it's not like he can ask her to – he kinda doesn't plan on asking her to.

**... ... ...**

So he wanted to be her first – the first one to compliment her and make her feel good about herself because, well, she needed to hear it.

But he doesn't plan on being her first in this way, not at all.

Puck's still in the car come one am and Finn doesn't think he's coming up anytime soon. Mike's spread across the cot he's set up in the living room, fast asleep to a re-run of _Cake Boss_ in the background.

Finn and Rachel sneak up the stairs at one am on the dot and he tells her to tiptoe because the only neighbors he's got are assholes.

"Tell me," Rachel's clinging on to his forearm because it's dark and she's in flats and she's _totally_ going to slip on the staircase if she doesn't stay close to him. "How rebellious do you feel right about now? Climbing up four flights of stairs at one in the morning in the dark makes me feel like Indiana Jones or something."

"Used to it," he tells her with a chuckle. "I'm always coming in and out of this place because of my crazy schedule down at the station. But it's adorable the way you totally think you're Indiana Jones even though he's like, a total badass and you're just climbing a flight of stairs holding onto one of my arms."

"I can hold both if you want me to," she says flirtatiously with a chuckle.

"Or I could carry you up to my room," Finn tells her. "But that's _so_ not Indiana Jones, that's more Spiderman."

She still holds onto his arm until they get up to his and Puck's apartment. The door's unlocked and Finn mumbles a curse because Mike could've gotten them robbed or something.

"Go wait in my room," Finn tells Rachel. "I'll be right there."

**... ... ...**

He doesn't remember how it happens, but it totally does.

He's cupping one of Rachel Berry's breasts in his large hand as she shoots her head up, moaning something or other as she plants a soft kiss down onto his neck. Her body's stretched across his and it's comfortable – like, super comfortable. Sure, she's awkward as hell because it's her first everything, but he forgets that after two minutes into it because she's totally sucking on the skin of his neck and he wants to ask her how many times she's done this before because she's kind of a pro.

"No sex," she grunts just as she shoots up from on top of his body, throwing the shirt that rests on the edge of his bed over her head quickly.

"That's why I didn't take the sweatpants off," Finn chuckles. "Are you alright?"

"No," she answers with a quiver to her voice.

"But you were fine," Finn tells her. "And Rachel, really, I can't see why you haven't –"

"You have a girlfriend," she snaps coldly. "You have a girlfriend and here I am thinking you like me so I'm letting you do, well… lord knows _what_ to my body."

"We got to second base," Finn tells her. "It's not a big deal, trust me."

"Would you like me to explain that to your girlfriend? You know, the one I _work_ with?" Rachel snaps. "'Oh, hello, Spencer, how was your weekend? Mine was fine because I managed to reach second base with _your_ boyfriend. Now if you'll whip out the ingredients for the cappuccino –'"

His lips are hot against hers before she can utter another word. "Stop," he tells her. "I know, I know, it was stupid because you're right, I'm totally with Spencer. But Rachel, I like you."

"Clearly not enough due to the fact you completely disregarded any memory of your girlfriend," Rachel scoffs. "I just… Noah was right."

"About?" Finn sits up now, throwing his t-shirt over his head and running his hands through his tousled hair.

"I can't tell you," Rachel says. "You'll just do it more if I tell you."

"Oh… 'kay," he says, his eyes narrow.

"I can't just stand here and be the 'other woman'," Rachel says coldly. "I won't let you do that to me; I can't."

"Rachel, you know I really like you," he grabs her wrist with his hand before she can jerk her body up and off of his.

"This isn't right," she hisses.

Finn shrugs, his eyes looking onto hers, a pool of guilt flooding every inch of them. "Sure, I get that, but… it feels right. And Rachel, we don't know what'll happen like, two weeks from now, maybe two days. Just… just don't tell anyone."

She cups her hands over her face, nods gently while letting out a sniffle and rises from his body and onto the floor. She grabs the denim jacket that rests on the floor beneath his bed and walks out of the room, not once looking behind to Finn.

"Shit," is all he can manage to mumble as she walks out of the room, hoping she hears him.

She doesn't because he thinks if she did, she totally would've come back.

**... ... ...**

It's still dark outside and he checks the phone that sits in the pocket of his sweatpants and swears it reads 3:00 AM. The sound of two small footsteps wakes him up so he reaches for the lamp beside his bed and misses. "Crap."

"Sh," he hears an echo and sits up in his bed. "Finn?"

"Rachel?"

"Santana."

"Oh," he lets out a disappointed grunt.

"Don't you act like you're all pissed to see me," Santana snickers. "Last time I walked out of here I could've sworn we were friends."

"You threw the vase Puck bought you at my car window," Finn says.

Santana chuckles, plopping her body down on the end of Finn's bed now. "Who in the world wants a damn vase? Do I look like Martha Stewart to him?"

He doesn't plan on telling her the vase was his idea. (_"It'll totally be a good gift because you could even buy her like, cool flowers to put in it too."_)

"I just came up here to say goodnight," Santana tells him. "I'm heading back out to campus soon but I came to visit Puck so we could work shit out."

"Cool," Finn nods. "Well, nice seeing you –"

"Not so fast," Santana holds her index finger to his lips and he doesn't repel because, well, even he as a firefighter he can admit that Santana's scarier than like, any house fire he's ever witnessed. "I know what you did last night."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Don't sit there and act all innocent, asshole," she cackles. "You totally fucked that little brunette's heart out. Y'know, the one I saw you taking up to yours and Puck's apartment at like, one in the morning."

He's silent.

"In case you weren't aware, this _is_ Puck's apartment and he _does_ know that girl so he told me just about everything – after he stopped yelling at me about using his credit card for a bunch of shit on campus – but…"

"'But' nothing," Finn intrudes. "Rachel's just a friend."

"Wait a minute," Santana shoots her body up from the bed and onto the floor, throwing her hands over her head. "That's the same little tramp you were fucking in bed last week, huh? At least, I hope… I mean, poor Spencer's got enough to deal with after you cheated on her with that blonde chick from that party like, two months ago."

"We just made out," Finn tells her. "We were drunk."

"But you weren't drunk tonight," Santana snickers. "You were fully sober and so was that tiny little chick walking out of your apartment."

"Goodbye, Santana," Finn lifts his arm up and points toward the door.

"I'll be back here," she tells him. "Keep fucking around with that Rachel chick and I'll tell Puck. He's suspicious of it, sure, but he doesn't think you'd actually act on it. Me? I've got the damn confirmation."

"Goodbye, Santana," Finn points toward the door once more.

"Asshole," she chants before slamming the door the hardest possible. He just feels bad because she _totally_ just woke up Mike, guaranteed. "And tell Puck the money I took from him last month is in the top drawer in the kitchen, alright?"

He doesn't answer because he's totally fucked. And guilty and every other emotion possible after reaching second base with the girl who's supposed to be just his fellow band mate and nothing else. His head feels like maybe it'll explode and usually when he feels like this after a stressful week or something he hops out of bed grabs pancakes with the guys because pancakes _always_ cheer him up – but not tonight.

He just needs to see Rachel Berry again. Whether he sees her again or he _sees_ her again, it has to happen somehow.

**... ... ...**

**tbc.**

a/n: Hi there! Reviews, reviews, okay! Thank you so very much for your reviews; they're all so, so very kind. I know lots of people have alerted this fic (thank you, thank you!) and I would love if maybe some of you could drop a review as well? I hate to beg, really, but reviews help me to know what I must improve, how this fic stands as a story, how I'm doing with characterization, etc. etc. Those would be much appreciated! I'll be sure to update as soon as possible, but only if I receive positive feedback and such. I have much more to include for this story so I'd love to share it with you. Have a lovely rest of your week/weekend! :)


	4. Chapter 4

The sound of the bowling pins hitting the hard wood must be the reason she doesn't check her phone, even when it vibrates three times in fifteen minutes. Finn _totally _blames the bowling pins.

"Hey," he nudges Puck, who's gripping a bottle of beer in each hand, his eyes more focused on the breasts of the slender brunette server hovering over their table. "Dude, tell Rachel to check her phone."

"She's two seats down, dude. You tell her," Puck stares for a moment and then hisses, slamming the beer in his right hand down on the tabletop. "_Especially_ if it's a naked picture of you or some shit…"

He takes a slow breath and huffs, "I've just gotta talk to her, that's all."

"She'd check her phone if she wanted to talk to you," Puck says. "She's obviously having more fun picking out the colored bowling balls with Mike, so…"

"Thanks for nothing, asshole," Finn moans.

Puck just snickers playfully, lifting his beer bottle up to his lips without taking a sip, "Thanks for stealing our lead singer."

"She's… she's still our lead," Finn stutters, confused.

"Not after you tear that little heart of hers into two," Puck tells him. "I'm serious dude, fuck off. You've got a girlfriend and she's… well… she goes to college or some shit."

Finn just rolls his eyes because, well, she's _so_ much more than that.

But he's pretty sure he'll be cutting it close if he names any of the like, ten good traits about her he can think of off the top of his head, so he shuts his mouth and just groans as he nestles his body further into the chair he's sitting in.

He picks up his phone one more time – nothing.

**... ... ...**

She rents a pair of bowling shoes and scrunches her nose because she can totally pick out the stench from the floor. He laughs at her and picks up the bowling ball she's using off of the rack and hands it to her with a small grin.

"Thank you, Finn," Rachel pauses as she lifts the ball up in her hands, walking forward to the lane.

He follows her, "It's no problem."

He wants to say more but he can't. Not when she's giddily tapping her bowling shoes together, chanting how easy it'll be for her to get a strike in this lane because it's got the bumpers.

He just stands behind her and tells her she kicked ass even if she only knocked down five pins.

It's a start and well, he's gotta start _somewhere_ right?

**... ... ...**

All's fun and games because the guys order a pizza pie and trick Rachel into eating it. (And she doesn't even realize it's _totally_ not Vegan.) They bowl another round and Finn lets Rachel win because her enthusiasm and her persistence are totally too hard to crush. She even hugs him because she gets a turkey – with his and Puck's help, of course – and he lets her eat the last slice of pizza because _all_ winners get to eat the last slice of pizza. She licks the chicken flavor right across her lips and then hands Finn her crust because she's full. It's pretty damn perfect.

Now Finn's kneeling on the ground, unlacing the bowling shoes he's been wearing for two hours straight while Mike gets the check.

He swears Rachel went to the bathroom like, ten minutes ago and he thinks he remembers Puck asking him if he had any quarters for the arcade in the back, but when Mike's back with their coats and his keys and their shoes too, Puck and Rachel don't come back with him.

"You ready to head out?" Mike asks, paying half of his attention to Finn while he holds his phone in his right hand, vigorously typing away at the keys, probably to his girlfriend.

Finn just shakes his head and stands up, grabbing his shoes from the chair Mike's rested them on. "Not until we find Puck and Rachel, no."

"They went out to the parking lot," Mike answers indifferently. "Puck needed a smoke and Rachel was all upset about something. He said he'd handle her, so…"

"'Handle' and Puck in the same sentence, huh?" Finn grunts. "You do know what 'handle' means in terms of Puck, right…?"

Mike just shakes his head in disagreement, "She was crying and he told her to go to the parking lot with him so people wouldn't see her freak out in here."

Finn just stands in silence, twiddling with his hands in the deep holes of his jean pockets.

"Oh, and he wanted a smoke."

In the little amount of time he's known her, he never took Rachel to be into smokers.

He hopes he's right – _really _right.

By the time he reaches the parking lot, the only way he spots Puck is because there's only one car with an open window in late November.

Puck's got a cigarette lit, taking heavy puffs as he turns around to who Finn knows is Rachel in the passenger seat, letting out a small chuckle and then rolling up the window on the driver's side. He sees him mouth something to her but it's too dark to make out what he's saying, so he just walks over to the car window, curls his hand into a fist and pounds on the glass.

Puck rolls down the window once more, tossing his lit cigarette to the ground before opening his mouth, "The fuck you need, Hudson?"

Rachel sniffles a little in the passenger seat and even though he's got like, no idea why she's upset, he can't help but feel a pang of guilt build up in his chest. "I just wanted to talk to her," he looks to Rachel, who's looking anywhere but to him, a crumpled tissue squeezed in the palm of her hand.

"No," Puck snaps. "S'not a good idea at all. Especially – "

Rachel chimes in, something strange in her voice, "Unlock the door."

So Puck unlocks the door, but he's not happy about it. He just grabs another cigarette from the glove compartment in his car, digs for a spare lighter underneath his seat and nestles his head further back into the cushion of his chair, a noticeable smirk painted across his face.

She's exiting the car and he can't help but wonder how the hell someone can be like, super happy one moment and completely emotional the next. She's a mixture of both, though, because even though she's got a wad of crumpled tissues in her hands, red eyes and the sniffles, she manages to give off a smile to Finn as she closes the car door behind her.

"I'm going to ignore Noah's chiming into our conversation," she snickers as she leans her head back toward the car window Puck's leaning his entire upper body out of, a cigarette in between his smirk. "Let's just get this over with."

"…Get _what_ over with? I came out here to see if you were okay."

"That's just the thing, Finn," Rachel breathes. "I'm not okay at all. I… I got your messages tonight, you know."

"Oh," he kicks the ground beneath him because there's not much else he can say. He can't like, grab her phone and pretend he never sent those messages, can he?

She surges forward a little bit, scraping her flat across the ground, "Yeah."

He doesn't know what to say so he doesn't say anything. He thinks he'll let her do the talking this time because really, he's not so good at it.

"Did you mean it?" She whispers.

"Which one?" He murmurs. "There were like… three."

"Did you really mean it when you said our small hookup was more of a spur of the moment type of thing than an actual hookup and you'd never actually use me to take advantage of me for my body and my body only?" She snaps sternly, folding her arms beneath her chest as she lets out a small breath.

"I –"

"Did you really mean it when you said you thought I was 'cool' – and you _definitely_ used the term cool – despite Noah's remarks on my attire and personal selections in music?"

He doesn't even bother uttering a word. He just studies her with his eyes, and not in a cool Inception kind of way, either, but he watches her. He watches the way she puts her hands up and makes air quotes when she spits the word 'cool' out at him. He watches the way she taps her left foot when she lets out those huffs that she thinks intimidate him when really all they are is kind of cute. He watches the way she closes her eyelids for two seconds hoping he'll answer; hoping he'll give her some kind of answer because believe it or not, even Rachel Berry gets tired of hearing her own voice sometimes.

"I meant the last one, too," he says after a moment of pure silence. "If you give me time, Rachel, we could get to know one another and…"

"And _nothing_," she does that foot tapping thing again and folds her arms even tighter around her chest, her eyes staring straight into his now. "You're in a relationship and I'm just some silly girl who joined your band because I figure my talent should be showcased in other places besides my dorm room and my Tuesday morning theatre class."

"That's not why you joined," Finn chuckles.

"Well it certainly wasn't for _you_," she snickers and taps her foot again. (_Totally_ cute.)

"I know," Finn nods. "You joined because you wanted to be part of something special; you wanted some people to call friends."

She scoffs, "No."

"Rachel, c'mon, you don't have to lie to me," he tells her.

"You lied to me!"

"Not true," he shakes his head and she stomps her foot onto the ground, letting out a groan. "I told you about Spencer before me and you ever did, well… what we did."

"You make it sound as if we've had intercourse," she says, almost disgusted. "And how did you know which 'lie' I was referring to?" She's using those air quotes again.

He freezes. _Shit_. "'Cuz I've never told you another lie before." He's stuttering and he's suddenly like, super grateful for the cover of night because the beads of sweat that drip down his head as he stands nervously in front of her are like, super embarrassing.

"What was such a lie about informing me of your ever-so-lovely girlfriend?" No one's ever shown Finn sarcasm like Rachel Berry does.

"I'm not having like, real issues with her," Finn confesses and Rachel tries to push past him as she stomps angrily, but only until he holds onto her forearm with his. "I made it seem like my love life with her was like, super boring and crap, but it's actually… it's actually pretty solid."

"So solid that you have to satisfy yourself elsewhere by tricking me into letting you reach second base with me?"

He says nothing; she starts to cry and for once, she says nothing either.

"I should've known when Noah told me of the whipped cream story," Rachel says after a minute or two, Finn's grip still gently on her forearm as she stands a small distance away from him.

"Are you kidding me?"

"No," she shakes her head and drops her gaze to the floor. "But I won't repeat it."

"Thanks." She doesn't want to know whether he actually means that or not. She doesn't want to know whether he actually means _anything _he says or not. "But I mean it when I say that if you give me a chance, Rachel, someday I'll make it up to you."

Shit. "Okay."

So she's just a silly little girl who joined a band to showcase her talent elsewhere, make a friend or two, and be a part of something special, sure. But there's nothing that says you can't join a band to be loved either, right?

**... ... ...**

They're at Dalton's and the stage lights are on because Puck's gotta make sure everything's perfect. Mike's in the back of the café setting up a camcorder because he promised Tina he'd record their first show for her to see and she's like, super proud of him so he doesn't want to disappoint.

Rachel's backstage fiddling with every which button on the curling iron she's plugged in and rested on a small side table next to a small mirror. She's taking deep breaths, but it's not because she's nervous because, well, Rachel Berry _never_ gets nervous. She just thinks it's super heated backstage.

"Hey," Finn lets out a small smile as he joins her backstage, fiddling with the buttons of his plaid flannel. "You ready for this?"

She reaches a shaky hand up to her forehead, wiping a small drop of sweat from above her eyebrow. "I'm ready if you all are. Rachel Berry is _always _up for a new challenge in the world of song."

"It's a full house," he says. "I could've sworn I saw like, a thousand people."

"The maximum occupancy is one-hundred and four," Rachel chuckles. "But I'm sure the manager and the staff will manage to squeeze them all in." She squeezes the wrist he rests on the side table next to her curling iron and he doesn't move an inch; he just lets her fingers brush over his skin and he doesn't even look up to her because he tells himself he's _totally_ gotta stop making situations awkward and stuff.

"Thanks," he blurts out.

"For…?"

"Just thanks," he says with a small nod.

She smiles to him but then she starts to cry, and not just like, a little tear or two underneath her eyelid. Rachel Berry's sobbing backstage, burying her head into her arms as she throws it onto the side table beside her with all her might, Finn's arm the only thing stopping her from burning her forehead into the heated curling iron.

"…I can take that thanks back if, um… if you want," he strokes the skin on her forearm without even knowing it.

"I can't do it," she confesses, jerking her head up from the table and onto Finn with moist, red eyes.

"What do you mean you can't –"

She shakes her head and starts to sob harder, "I just feel so guilty, Finn. Spencer's here, y'know, supporting _you_… her boyfriend. And here I am playing house with you backstage acting as if Spencer Fields doesn't even exist."

"She exists…" He starts but she stops him.

"Not when you're with me," Rachel tells him. "Look, Finn, deny it all you want, but don't think I don't see the way you look at me, the way you defend me when Noah uses a juvenile method consisting of only crass humor toward me, the way you're the only one who offers to walk me downstairs after a late night rehearsal, the way –"

"Rachel, stop!" Finn shouts, holding his hands above his head as he steps a few steps back from her. "Like I said, someday I'm gonna make it all up to you, I promise. But for now, I'm with Spencer and I really like her and –"

"I knew it," she hisses. "You'd deny any and all feelings for me just like the coward you are."

"I'm not a coward," he shakes his head but she lets out yet another grunt and stomps her foot, a fire igniting in her eyes.

"You have feelings for me and you're just too afraid to admit it," she turns the corner of the stage and joins Mike and Puck who are still testing out their microphones and all of their equipment and totally leaves him hanging.

But maybe, just maybe, he left her hanging first.

Whatever, they're even now. It'll always balance out once they're even, he knows it and she _has_ to know it, too. He's pretty sure _everyone_ knows that.

**… … …**

They're finally on stage and they sing their first song and people clap – people _actually_ clap. They hear a couple of hoots and cheers and glasses clinking together and stuff but the applause says it all for them.

Rachel belts Heart's _Barracuda_ to perfection, dancing around Finn's drum set and tapping her fingers on the edges of Mike's piano as she does a little skip on the stage. It gets a higher applause from the audience, so she does it even more.

Finn gives off a little nod to her, scrunching his nose as he beats his sticks even harder down on the drum pad. Rachel struts over to him, holding the microphone even closer to her lips as she squats down next to his drum set, running her free hand over the top of his hair.

More hoots and hollers are heard from the audience, and even Puck looks over to the two of them for like, a second or two and does a little wink.

They're totally owning this. Rachel's_ totally_ owning this.

(Finn just thinks she looks pretty beautiful twirling around his drum set like that.)

**… … …**

So the night ends well because they get an offer.

"A fucking offer," Puck nudges Finn while William Schuester, the manager of McKinley's Bar and Grill congratulates them and doesn't fail to mention how 'entertaining and lively' their lead singer was – four times.

"I know, dude," Finn pounds his fist into Puck's and nods. "This could be it, y'know."

Rachel's just twirling around as she wraps her microphone cord around the stand center stage, humming a soft tune as the boys look onto her.

"She's golden," Puck points to her and Finn and Mike nod in agreement.

"In more ways than one." Shit. Finn _totally_ needs to manage what he's supposed to say out loud and what he's not.

Mike doesn't hear him because his cell phone's vibrating and by now the whole world knows Tina's calling him to hear how the show went. Puck just rolls his eyes and lets out a snicker, looking onto Rachel who's still giddily packing the equipment up on stage.

"Go help your lover girl out over there," Puck nudges Finn on the forearm. "I've gotta sort some business and shit out with this Schuester guy. I've gotta make sure he isn't sketchy."

Finn doesn't know how the owner of like, the coolest restaurant in town can be considered 'sketchy', but he shuts up and just walks to the stage next to Rachel, who's kneeling down in her dress and tights as she folds up a never-ending pile of wires.

"Hi!" She jumps up and greets him giddily, biting onto her lip as he pulls her into a small hug. "We kicked ass!"

"Yeah," he nods. "We did."

"What's the matter?" She asks him playfully, moving a piece of hair that sticks to his forehead away with her index finger. "Aren't you happy?"

"Pretty much," Finn tells her.

"Well you don't seem it." He wishes she'd stop paying so much damn attention to him sometimes because even if he'll never tell her, it kind of freaks him out when she starts to read him like one of those Broadway music books or something. "Is it because Spencer hasn't talked to you all night?"

She's good – _really_ good. "I just feel guilty, y'know," he's whispering now."Here I am with you backstage when my girlfriend's like, somewhere out in the audience alone."

"Then find her," Rachel says encouragingly.

Finn just shakes his head and grabs onto her right hand with his. "Problem is, I don't have a need to look for her," he confesses.

"Oh," is all Rachel can say. That is, before Puck jumps onto the stage and in between the two of them – and he isn't alone, either.

"Oh… um, hi," Finn's fiddling with the two drumsticks he's holding and Rachel just clears her throat and kneels to the floor, pretending to fold a wad of cords and wires up. "I was just coming to look for you."

Spencer nods, untying the loop in her small work apron, "You guys were pretty great."

"Thanks," he pulls her into a hug now, his hands tangled in her ginger-colored waves. "It's you that got us in, y'know, so I mean, we should be thanking you, right?"

"Save it," she laughs, brushing her hand against his cheek. "But, I'll be honest, Santana was _totally_ right for this band and well… your new lead singer isn't," she whispers that one as she looks at him seriously. He can only look to the ground, to a fury-eyed yet surprisingly calm Rachel, her hands tangled in the rest of Mike's piano wires.

"Oh." Coward, coward, coward; it's all that's running through his mind. "Well I… I think Rachel's totally awesome."

"She's alright," Spencer shrugs, still whispering into his ear even though he's pretty sure Puck and Rachel and like, the entire restaurant can hear her. "She's cute and stuff, but too… innocent. She doesn't have that appeal."

He wants to yell at her, he does, but he leaves it to Rachel to be brave for the both of them because from what she's told him and the guys, she loves a good debate. So why doesn't she stand when the one person she feels threatened by the most actually insults her?

Finn asks himself that, Puck asks himself that and Rachel asks herself that too, even if her fingers are completely lost in a pile of cords and wires.

Finn just kisses Spencer goodnight, sucking at her lip gently as she makes her way down from the stage and onto the floor.

"I'll see you whenever," she tells him with a nod as she grabs her keys from behind the counter and makes way for the door.

"See you," Finn waves.

"When's whenever?" Rachel's standing up now, her hands folded underneath her breasts as she lets out a small breath.

"I don't care," he says indifferently before kneeling down to the floor and tangling his hands in every which wire until they're all sorted out into their respective bags.

She offers her help too but Finn and Puck think it's a good idea if she just waits in the car and Mike tells her he'll wait with her too because he can totally use the Bluetooth to call Tina since his phone completely died on him.

"Okay," she doesn't want to go but she's not so sure she wants to stay and hear what Finn and Puck have to say either.

She turns her body back to the stage once more as Mike's holding the door open for her because she wants a look – just _one_ look.

Finn's looking at the mess of cords in one hand, his drumstick in the other. Puck looks up at her and winks, then mouths the word 'behave' before she closes the door to Dalton's.

So first she untangles a bunch of cords and a bunch of wires and now he does too. Maybe it's just a coincidence, sure, any sane person would think so, but that's not what Rachel Berry wants to think. In the car she asks Mike if cords and wires could be a metaphor for anything and he just shrugs and asks her how in the world to work Bluetooth.

**… … …**

"Thanks a lot, asshole," Finn grunts as he packs up his drum set.

"What'd I do now?" Puck lets out a snicker.

"You _know_ I like her."

Puck just brushes it off his shoulder with a 'what-the-fuck-ever' attitude because, well, "I also know you've got yourself a pretty lil' girlfriend."

"Not for long," Finn tells him.

"Bullshit," Puck answers under his breath.

Finn just laughs, "I heard that, y'know."

"'Cuz I planned for you to."

**... ... ...**

Mike and Rachel both nap in the car because Puck and Finn take forever and a day packing up all of their equipment.

Mike's dead asleep in the passenger seat; his head nestled far into the cushion of the chair as he lets out a snore.

Rachel sleeps in the backseat, her body in fetal position as she lies across the seat, only a small throw blanket covering her.

Her vibrating phone wakes her up at around one-thirty am and she rubs her groggy eyes, sits up with a sleepy yawn and runs her fingers through her teased hair before picking up the phone that rests in the cup holder beside her.

_Soon, Rachel, soon_.

She reads it five times and guesses it means he and Puck'll be coming out soon because, well, it's almost two am and they've been packing equipment for an hour now. But she reads it just once more and suddenly, it's got a whole new meaning. _Soon_.

She texts him back with only the word 'soon' but adds a smiley face at the end because she thinks maybe he'll like it.

Regardless, she can send him all of the smiley faces she wants soon and not have to worry about it all. Totally.

**... ... ...**

**tbc.**

a/n: School's quite a pain but I hope my timing is at least somewhat reasonable concerning updates for this story. If you have the time, a review would be lovely! :)


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